


Slumber Party Panic

by chellerrific



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellerrific/pseuds/chellerrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens at sleepovers doesn’t always stay at sleepovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slumber Party Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Just a meandering bit of lady-filled fluff. This fic shares its name with an episode of _Adventure Time_ , though does not, probably to its detriment, contain zombies, candy or otherwise.
> 
> The old leadership of the SWA is purely my fannish invention, but I could very clearly see it happening just like that.
> 
> And before you ask, the answer is no, I will never, ever get tired of “Iba’s mom” jokes. Ever. This is an irrefutable constant of the universe, like gravity and trashy daytime TV.

_We’re going to get ice cream_ , they’d said. _Why don’t you come with_ , they’d said. _You won’t have to pay_ , they’d said.

She should have made a run for it as soon as they got to the Kuchiki estate. When she’d pointed at the symbol on the wall accusingly and reminded them they’d said they were going for ice cream, Lisa had shrugged and said, “I’m sure there’s ice cream in there. It’s a big house,” and then dragged her inside.

Even though she was sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, it still didn’t quite make sense that that series of events could have ended here, with her, Hiyori Sarugaki, sitting at a slumber party held by the Shinigami Women’s Association, wearing her monkey-print PJs and having Shinji’s new lieutenant braid her hair.

“You have such nice hair, Hiyori,” Momo told her. “I wish mine was this color.”

“Tch,” Hiyori replied.

“I bet back in the day you and your captain were a lovely matched set,” Momo went on, unperturbed.

“Like Izuru and his captain now,” Rangiku said with a grin. “They look so good together, I just have to close my eyes and imagine them making a big blond mess of each other.”

Hiyori cringed. She was leaving if the subject of discussion was going to be Rose’s sex life.

“My captain wasn’t blond,” she said, to derail the conversation.

“No?” Momo was thoughtful. “I thought Captain Urahara—”

Lisa and Mashiro held up their hands to stop her, but it was too late.

“That idiotic, geta-wearing, good-for-nothing Second Division hand-me-down was never my captain!” Hiyori clenched the table in front of her so hard it cracked and splintered.

“Oh no!” Isane said. “Captain Kuchiki is going to make us take that out of our budget!”

From where she sat letting Lisa paint her toenails, Nanao sighed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rukia said quickly, not looking particularly authoritative in an oversized shirt with a giant cartoon rabbit face on the front. “I’ll talk to my brother about it. He can be very reasonable… sometimes…”

“Or else just tell him Yachiru did it,” Kiyone suggested.

Everyone laughed, except Hiyori, who couldn’t remember and didn’t care which one Yachiru was.

“I’m sorry,” Momo told her in a low voice, so that only the two of them could hear under the chatter. “Not knowing you don’t have fond feelings for him is no excuse for my mistake.”

“Tch,” Hiyori said again, and the two of them lapsed back into braidful silence.

“Hey, Momo, do you think I should cut my hair? You know, like how I used to have it,” Rangiku asked. “It’s kind of a pain like this.”

“You could always put it up,” Nanao said pragmatically.

Rangiku waved a hand. “No, I mean, like, washing and stuff.”

“I think a change of style can be a good thing sometimes,” Momo said. “Maybe I’ll cut mine short, too.”

“You’d be _darling_ with short hair!” Rangiku’s eyes lit up. “Now you have to do it!”

Momo demurred. “I’ll think about it. Almost… done… There!” She passed Hiyori a small hand mirror so she could see Momo’s handiwork.

She had done a French braid, weaving in tiny flower ornaments evenly down the length. Hiyori reached back to touch it carefully.

“I’m afraid it will get messed up when you sleep, but I hope you like it for now!”

“Hiyori, you look so cute!” Mashiro said, snapping a photo before Hiyori had time to react.

“Hey! You hand that over right now!” She nearly overturned the table in her haste to catch Mashiro.

“I can’t give this to you, Hiyori! I promised Shuhei I’d get pictures of Rangiku!”

“Hey!” But Rangiku didn’t really sound very put-out. She was wearing a lacy tank top and short shorts for pajamas, barely enough fabric to cover her. It wasn’t hard to believe there were a lot of people who’d like photographs of that.

“Hang on a second, Nanao,” Lisa told her, setting aside the nail polish. She stood and walked to the middle of the room, and when Hiyori ran past she clotheslined her. “Now both of you, knock it off!”

“What do you mean, _both_ of us?” Mashiro demanded indignantly. “You were the one who said you wanted copies of—”

“Hey! Don’t expect repeat business if you can’t respect your customers’ privacy,” Lisa snapped over the outbreak of giggles.

Isane knelt by Hiyori’s side. “Are you okay? It looked like you hit your head on the table on the way down.”

“Hey, Nanao,” Rangiku said. “Why don’t we sell Mashiro’s photos? We’d make a mint.”

“On your photos alone,” Kiyone said, not without a trace of jealousy.

“Be serious, Rangiku,” Nanao told her. “I couldn’t just sell us out like that.”

“Not until you’ve crunched the numbers and calculated a sufficient profit margin,” Lisa said with a knowing grin.

“I predict a substantial return on all investments,” Nemu said.

“It would be better if the captains had come,” Mashiro said. “Why aren’t they here?”

“Captain Unohana was busy,” Isane explained. “And Captain Suì-Feng...”

“Lost all interest when she found out Yoruichi wouldn’t be here,” Rangiku finished. “Though I suspect she’d be sorry to know she missed Hiyori’s anti-Kisuke rant earlier.”

“A shame. My third seat would have forked over his entire annual salary for her photos,” Nanao sighed. “ _Not_ , of course, that I’m agreeing to it.”

“Why don’t we run it by the president?” Rukia suggested with a mischievous grin.

“Wait a minute.” Hiyori sat up, batting away Isane’s hand and pointing at Nanao. “Aren’t _you_ the president?”

Everyone broke into titters again, except Nanao, who looked aggrieved. “Vice president, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, was there a Shinigami Women’s Association back in your day?” Momo asked, eyes wide with interest. “Who was president?”

“That was Chikane,” said Mashiro, who remembered because she had been vice president. “Chikane Iba.”

Rukia did a spit take. “ _Iba_? Like _Tetsuzaemon_ Iba?”

“Yeah, Love told me she’s his mom.”

There was a sudden flurry of questions as everybody wanted to know more details. The topic turned to Marenoshin Omaeda; everyone seemed to be torn between “surprised” and “not surprised” to hear he’d been a better officer than his son—after all, some of them had met him. Kiyone peppered them with painfully comprehensive questions about Jin’emon Kotsubaki, vehemently denying she was after anything other than dirt to hold over her co-seat’s head.

(If Hiyori found herself contributing to this part of the conversation, it was only because she was allayed by being on familiar ground for a change.)

“Hey, do you hear that?” Nanao cocked her head to one side.

The others fell silent. The ground was shaking slightly. The atmosphere was not dissimilar to the feeling of an approaching storm.

There were shouts, and suddenly the door was flung open and a little pink-haired force of nature tumbled in. “Hey everybody! Sorry I’m late! Kenny brought me and we got a little lost! Where’s the food!”

Hiyori found herself directly face to face with the new arrival, who blinked at her once her speech was finished. “Huh? Oh! It’s you, Fang!”

That was right. This was Yachiru. Hiyori remembered now.

“Yachiru,” Isane said, leaning around Hiyori. “Are those really your pajamas?”

Yachiru was all but swimming in a man’s shirt that said “Sex Pistols” in loud katakana.

“Yeah! Baldy brought it back for me the last time he went to the Living World!”

“What the heck is a ‘sex pistol’?” Kiyone asked, sounding it out carefully.

“Sex Pistol _s_ ,” Lisa said, with extra emphasis on the final s. “It’s an English punk band.”

“And Ikkaku assumed it was something filthy,” said Rangiku, shaking her head. “Who wants to make up something terrible to tell his captain about what kinds of things he’s giving to precious little Yachiru?”

“You can’t!” Momo gasped. “Captain Zaraki will kill him!”

Rangiku just grinned and shrugged.

“Hey, Pervy,” Yachiru said to Lisa, watching her put the finishing touches on Nanao’s toenails. “Will you do mine next?”

“Sure, if you think you can sit still long enough.” Lisa seemed unfazed by her nickname. She’d heard worse.

Yachiru considered it. “Hmm… never mind!” She whirled on Rukia. “Is there any ice cream?”

“There might be,” Rukia said. “I’ll go check. Anybody else want some?”

To everybody’s surprise, Hiyori was instantly on her feet. “Azuki if you have it.” After all, she'd been lured here with the promise of free ice cream. She’d be damned if she’d sit through this only to turn down the offer when it finally came.

“President,” Nemu said to Yachiru respectfully. “There’s a fundraising idea we need your opinion on.”

“ _She’s_ the president?” Hiyori cried, pointing. “How’d you decide that? By _size_?”

“If only _we’d_ done it that way!” Mashiro said. “You would have been president then!” She easily dodged the kick that swept through the air towards her head.

Still, Lisa and Mashiro assured the others that the night had contained much less violence than predicted, which was a pretty good indicator Hiyori was genuinely having a good time.

Sales of the Shinigami Women’s Association’s Special Super Slumber Party Panic! photo book ended up exceeding even Nanao and Nemu’s careful calculations. Photos that made the final cut included, but were by no means limited to: Momo doing Hiyori’s hair; Lisa giving Nanao her pedicure; Hiyori and Yachiru eating ice cream; Kiyone trying to coax Isane into having more sake (though no one ended up having much at all); Nemu sitting artistically; Mashiro giving Momo a lesson in the fine art of the victory pose; Byakuya’s face when he found the party; Rukia running interference on Byakuya while Momo and Isane tried to block the broken table from his sight; Yachiru jumping on Byakuya and trying to ride him like a pony; Hiyori laughing, a shot no one could quite place in the timeline of the night; a staged pillow fight Lisa was absolutely firm was a necessity; and a thoroughly gratuitous number of shots of Rangiku. The profits first went to replacing the table, and then the rest disappeared, as they always did, into Yachiru’s stomach.

Hiyori was willing to concede it had been worth going, until she found a framed copy of the photo of herself laughing hung in Shinji’s office with the caption _Welcome to Bizarro World_. She put her fist through it only to discover Shinji had spares.


End file.
